


Yes, "Oh."

by bbcatemysoul



Series: 50 Ways to Feed Your Lover [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Hand Feeding, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcatemysoul/pseuds/bbcatemysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock catches John checking out another man. Sherlock is an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, "Oh."

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little thingy, since I apparently can't stop writing this 'verse. (And another thingy coming in a day or two, I think!)
> 
> Also, while this story follows some time after [Starving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/927900) and [Indulgence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/966851), it can really be read on its own (though I am obviously of the opinion that you should read them aaaallllll).

* * *

 

A fury that Sherlock knew, on a rational level, was entirely disproportionate to the situation welled up inside him is he watched John's eyes appreciatively follow another man down the pavement. A stranger, tall, slim, sharp gaze, dark hair gone salt-and-pepper years ago. 

“Really, John, it's as though you don't even have standards,” Sherlock snapped viciously. “That man is fifty-five at least. You're getting even worse with men than you are with women!” 

Without deigning to reply, John rolled his eyes and strode across the street into a quaint, hole-in-the-wall bakery, leaving Sherlock to follow, bewildered and fuming. When Sherlock stepped into the bakery, John had already ordered and was paying for whatever was in the small white paper bag in his hand. As soon as they were back outside, John's other hand closed tightly on Sherlock's arm and hauled him down the pavement into the nearest alley, where Sherlock found himself shoved roughly against the wall, with John's thigh insinuating itself between his legs. 

Mind racing, Sherlock tried to work out exactly what was happening here, and failed. “John, what-” 

Reaching into the paper bag, John's hand emerged with an immensely enticing cheese Danish. John took a small bite himself, then broke off a piece and pressed it between Sherlock's lips. Sherlock tried to turn his head away, but John gave him a rough shove and forced the bit of Danish into Sherlock's mouth anyway. 

Sherlock promptly bit down hard on the pad of John's thumb. “John, stop it! I'm not hungry!” 

“I don't care,” John retorted. “You haven't eaten in over twelve hours, and you're bloody well going to eat this.” 

Another bit of pastry found its way between Sherlock's parted lips, and Sherlock accepted it sullenly. He tried, he really tried, to tell his body _not_ to slump down the wall in order rock his hips against John's thigh. It was really getting rather intolerable, his body doing whatever the hell it liked. 

As Sherlock submitted, the angry tension in John's forehead began to relax, but his weight didn't let up from pressing the detective hard against the rough, dingy brick wall of the alley. 

“That man was attractive,” John admitted, taking another bite of the pastry before sharing out more to Sherlock, who scrunched his face up petulantly at the mere mention of that... that... _other man_ who had gotten John's attention. 

“As he walked by, I was thinking,” John continued calmly, “that I imagine that's something like how you'll look in twenty years, and that that is a very good reason to make sure we both live that long.” 

Oh. _Oh_. “Oh,” Sherlock replied stupidly, his hands fumbling for John's waist and pulling the doctor closer against him. 

“Yes, 'oh,'” John laughed, and then efficiently continued feeding Sherlock in silence until the Danish was gone. 

As soon as he had swallowed the last bite, Sherlock's hands tried to grope for John's arse, but John twisted away, withdrawing his thigh and stepping back. The detective let out an indignant whine. 

“Really, Sherlock, in the middle of a case?” John chided, mimicking Sherlock's usual condescending tone flawlessly, which Sherlock decided was infuriating. “Do you really think I'm going to let you get off in the middle of some dirty alley when there's a murder to be solved?” 

“B-but...” Sherlock stammered, wondering at just what moment he had successfully transformed into an idiot who could make Anderson seem eloquent by comparison. 

“What you're going to do instead,” John ordered, and Sherlock visibly shivered as John's voice dropped into captain mode, “is pull your coat closed to hide _that_ ,” the doctor gestured at the prominent bulge in the front of Sherlock's trousers, “and then get in a cab and go astound a room full of Yarders with your massive, brilliant brain. And once you have managed to catch a killer, preferably without getting either of us killed or hospitalized in the process, I am going to take you home, and spend a fair amount of time shagging you until you can't think, speak, or move. Are we clear?” 

Sherlock pushed off the wall and straightened his posture, obediently pulling his coat around himself with unsteady hands. He leaned close to let his lips brush very lightly against John's ear, and dropped his voice to a low rumble. “Yes, Sir.” He watched, pleased, as John's face flushed and his eyelids flickered, before turning dramatically on his heel and striding away to hail a cab.

 

* * *

 


End file.
